Everyone is Jaune
by GenericNameWithNumber
Summary: Loosely based on the tabletop RPG "Everyone is John" by Michael B. Sullivan. Jaune must become the hero he always wanted to be while dealing with the spirits/personalities in his head. Chaos ensues.


**This is a new story that I'm surprised hasn't been done before, or at the very least I haven't seen. It's loosely based on the tabletop RPG dubbed "Everyone is John" but is ultimately just a standard multiple personality story. To the (very) few people that followed my other story, it has been deleted and will never be updated, because I have no idea how to flesh out RWBY's backstory.**

Everyone is Jaune:

"Mr. Arc, the only thing I can ask is what in blazes were you thinking?"

Ozpin, the professor of Beacon academy was staring me down with mixtures of shock, disappointment, and disgust permeating his facial expressions. His knuckles were completely white and the coffee mug in his hands was tittering and shuddering back and forth willy nilly. Ms. Goodwitch too stood there, with nothing but scorn for me. As I sat there in the interrogation room, bright lamp burning my irises, I could find no logical response to his question. Because in the series of bizarre events that I had partaken in, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't even in control.

My name is Jaune Arc, and as of three hours ago, I have discovered that multiple people reside in my brain.

Like every wild night, my adventure involved a copious amounts of alcohol. Usually when someone younger wants alcohol, they'll steal some from their parents or pay someone off to get it for them. In my case, I just took a six pack of beer off the racks of the Vale grocery store and started guzzling it. Those surrounding me could only watch in amazement as a onesie wearing teen with a clown nose started slamming down brewski like a dehydrated man stranded in the Vacuo desert.

It is here that I would like to introduce you to Captain Booboo, your typical middle aged suicidal party clown. After failing to reach fame with his math rock ska band, Blush Calhoun became "Captain Booboo" the terror of every child's birthday party. And what a terror he was. At every venue he showed up in he was cross faded. The scent of weed and booze encompassed his being like a homeless man's cloak, and if he wasn't drunkenly sobbing and singing at the same time, he was trying to get down and dirty with the hottest mom at the party. Booboo was a wreck, and it was no surprise to anyone when they found him overdosed on Xanax with overdue bills and a noose covering his kitchen table. Then through some miracle or curse, Booboo's consciousness merged with my own.

"Security! Put the beer down you nutcase!" The security guard was noticeably distressed over my body's actions, and I would've likely dropped onto my hands and knees in forgiveness had I had the power to do so. Instead, Booboo decide to smash a can on his forehead and head-butt the guard with the force of an Ursa. "F-f-f-fuck you asshole! I need mah fucking sippy time bitch~!" Booboo then stripped off his onesie, leaving myself stark naked. He then proceeded to take the longest piss session right on top of the security guards chrome dome head. Then, to the fortune of the innocent upstanding citizens and the misfortune of my cranium, another guard snuck up on me and clubbed me like a baby seal in northern Atlas.

With Booboo out of commission, my body ran out of the grocery store. So far so good. Then I drop kicked the front window of a car passing by, threw the driver out, and floored it. He then proceeded to bob and weave by cars all while stroking his stick shift.

This, my startled audience, is the stunt double driver by the name of Karat Wickham, who has the wonderfully refined hobby of whacking off in weird places. When he isn't performing spectacularly controlled crashes, he's choking his chicken at a Faunus rights rally, or polishing his glistening colossus at a colosseum. The guy is an exhibitionist, thrill seeker, and bona fide freak, but he did his job well. That is, until he inevitably died during a car crash while jacking off. Yet apparently he hadn't learned his lesson, because the guy was moaning as loud as possible with the windows down.

Throughout this entire chain of events, I was slamming my metaphysical fist against the walls of my mind. "Let me out, you fucking madman! This is my body!" I was having a mental breakdown, within a mental breakdown. It was like the movie inception, but instead of watching mind-bending visuals it was me watching myself rocking back and forth through traffic while getting my rocks off in third person point of view. I had no body, and all I could do was scream, thus scream I did.

Outside of the paranormal tomfoolery that was occurring, I had another reason to scream. Karat closed his eyes during climax, and crashed right into a dust store. Finally, after five minutes of straight power thrusting into my palm, I finally released my death grip on my shaft. "Fucking hell bro, that was intense." Thus Mr. Wickham withdrew in his afterglow.

It was there that I was stuck in a most precarious situation. I was stark naked inside a car while a group of gang members where perusing the store in order to get their five finger discount. I had nowhere to run, and as the group of suit wearing crooks started creeping towards my car, I came up with a risky solution.

There was ultimately no possible way for me to retain my dignity, but their might possibly be a way to retain my life. Each of my transitions had occurred after a precarious injury. Whether it be through club to head or car crash, each heavy attack to my person led to a shift in ownership of my body. Thus I slammed my head as hard as possible into the steering wheel, hoping that there was someone remaining in my botched up head that could save me.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. My legs kicked off the front door off the car, and I flipped out of the vehicle into a stunning spinning kick, nabbing the nameless goon's katana in my mouth before landing in a crouch. Rocky is by far the most agreeable of my supposed personas. He's both an incredibly skilled fighter and acrobat who was the sidekick of a skilled vigilante/hero before dying peacefully of old age. There was only one primary issue though.

"Ruff!" Rocky dashed forwards on all fours and started slashing the legs of the gang members, before pouncing out the window to assist a red hooded girl in the vanquishing of evildoers. Sadly, this only shocked the caped reaper into shrieking in embarrassment. Rocky could only tilt his head in confusion, completely unaware of his nudity. He never wore clothes anyways.

Rocky is a dog after all.

"Yeah, no. Fuck this, I'm leaving." Infamous thief extraordinaire Roman Torchwick was absolutely done with my bullshit and proceeded to scurry up a building ladder. The girl in red was naturally in pursuit, and while I would've climbed up with her, Rocky had no concept of opposable thumbs, and due to some chafing he was attempting to lick his own balls.

I had to think fast. The last thing I needed was for the police to find me stark naked trying to tongue my own testicles, so I came up with the most cunning of plans.

"Rocky! Squirrel!"

Rocky's head shot straight up and pounced directly at a nearby lamppost, losing conciousness and letting me take back control. My first immediate action was to strip one of the knocked out criminal's pants. My trouser snake has had enough air, thank you very much. I was then ready to rush off to help, only find myself at the receiving end of a telepathic force, finally leading to a complete removal of consciousness, with no spirits or alternate personalities taking over.

Thus I am left here, wrists locked together, eternally humiliated, and deserving of any punishment I shall receive. I'll admit that I'm not the most respectable of human beings. After all, I had forged all my documentation in order to be accepted into Beacon academy. But even if I'm not the most morally sound of individuals, I still do want to be a hero. I do want to protect innocent people, and the fame and fortune are admittedly strong motivators, but saving the world from the Grimm menace certainly is a wonderful way of achieving those goals. But alas, I've been screwed over by paranormal psychiatric shenanigans, and have been misrepresented as a scoundrel. I should have listened to my father and given up on my pipe dreams.

"Mr. Arc, there has been a substantial amount of damage control that I had to do. A significant amount of paperwork to be done, and an entire store to be compensated for. Though you are a prospecting student, your chaotic acts have left many befuddled and angered." It was only a matter of time before Professor Ozpin sent me to the chopping block for my actions. The only thing I could do is look down and pray for my anus to be unviolated in prison.

"However, despite your shortcomings, you did assist Miss Rose in apprehending a large portion of Torchwick's henchman, and it would be a shame to see a possible huntsman be cast away from defending against the Grimm onslaught. Therefore, you shall be put on a strict probationary period should you succeed in your preliminary exams, an entire year of community service on campus, and frequent visits to our resident psychiatrist. Nonetheless, your admittedly loose cannon actions were noble, and you are still accepted into Beacon should you choose to pursue the path of the huntsman."

Professor Goodwitch had many complaints towards that notion, but at that point I didn't bother paying attention. Through some bizarre miracle, Ozpin magnanimously allowed me to remain a free man, and a potential huntsman to boot! I gave a shaky bow to the professors, apologized profusely, and exited the interrogation chamber post haste. I still had a chance to prove myself and become the hero I always dreamed of being. But first and foremost, I had to consult the parasites that have invaded my brain.

 **So yeah, this will likely be a very silly story. Whether or not I'll switch up the cast residing in Jaune's noggin or add new personas is something I have to think about in the future, assuming I'll even continue writing this story. Also, if you can't tell, Jaune will likely be more verbose and morally reprehensible due to the fact that I enjoy writing big words and writing somewhat scummy characters. This is fanfiction, it's not like Rooster Teeth will come knocking down my door because I'm not accurately depicting their character after all.**


End file.
